


Better Than Fine

by FadedSepia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Afterglow Musings, Concerned Bruce Banner, F/M, Heartrate thing stolen from the Norton Hulk, Intimacy, Mentiones of Red Room Awfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 21:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19259653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: “I don’t want to hurt you.”“Trust that I won’t let you?” She slipped her thumb between the band and his wrist.  “Can you do that, Bruce? Can you trust me?”“Always…”*~*~*~*~*~A sweet, brief morning moment of Natasha and Bruce.





	Better Than Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Massive, huge thanks to spaceluna for her encouragement (hooray time-zones!) and to Fox_MacLir for beta-reading this in one run tonight!
> 
> There is a mini rant in the note at the end, but I will say up-front: I stole the heart-rate thing from the 2008 Hulk movie with Edward Norton. I know it was technically pre-MCU, but we had the same General Ross, so... _*shrugs*_

She could have kissed him for the rest of the morning, but she’d been considering something, wanting to talk with him. At least, she had before she’d surrendered any notion of clear thought to the warm insistence of his mouth on hers. Now, half-cradled in his arms, Natasha finally had the presence of mind to speak. She rolled slightly, putting them both on their sides, scooting until they were flush against each other. “Bruce, I want to try something.”

Bruce’s hand rested gently on her hip, fingers still damp from where they had been working within her only moments before. “Natasha… I'm fine.” His nose brushed her temple, lips ghosting a kiss across her cheek. “I'm fine.”

“I know you are.” She tipped her head upward, nose bumping his as their foreheads touched.

“Nat… I don’t know…” He blinked, brown eyes wide and puzzled, searching; so open in that moment, gaze asking the question he couldn’t voice.

Natasha grasped his wrist, fingers tracing the smart watch. “Please?”

Bruce cut his eyes downward, looking to where she still held his hand, fingers grazing his palm. He clasped her hand in his. The barest smile flitted across his face, as sad as it was hopeful, gone in an instant. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust that I won’t let you?” She slipped her thumb between the band and his wrist. “Can you do that, Bruce? Can you trust me?”

“Always…”

It was a testament to that trust, how easily he let her unclasp his watch, untethering him from the constant heart-rate monitor, setting it on the nightstand as she pushed him to lay on his back. Natasha straddled over him, hands braced on either side of his face, knees pressed into the mattress, feeling his erection nudge, hot and weeping, against the cleft of her ass.

There were tremors in Bruce’s hands as they settled on her thighs.

Elbows bending, she leaned down, lips brushing his as she spoke. “Just keep breathing, Bruce.”

*~*~*~*~*~

His time in Natasha’s hands felt like days. Bruce knew it had only been hours, but – holy hell – there was no _only_ about this. It had been _hours._ The number of times he’d felt his breath go short, felt that familiar pressing clench at the edge of his jaw-! Only for Natasha to pause, to stroke his hip, his face; to hold him close and breathe with him, stemming his panic.

When it happened, it was different, at least from what he remembered of before, when he was younger, able, whole. The swift peak and crash were absent, replaced by a steady, protracted rise that left him almost surprised when it crested, when he felt the long-absent clenching in his gut and watched Natasha’s face bleed to white in front of him. Before, he’d felt a rush akin to an explosion, to riding a rocket to the edge of space. This was a free fall. He was viewing the same atmosphere, still seeing the hazy glow of the stars, but watching them drift, buoyed on the air, even as he hurtled back to Earth, wind whipping by his face.

Bruce blinked, hyper-focused on the closest thing he could see – slim fingers curling a strand of hair at his forehead – before looking up at Natasha.

“Welcome back.”

“Did I…” He couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice. “You're okay? I didn’t _go_ anywhere?”

 _“You_ stayed right here, Bruce.” She cupped his face in her hand, thumb stroking the line of his cheekbone.

Bruce turned in towards that touch, whole body wanting to curl up. “Ah…” There were tears, sharp and hot, pricking at the edge of his eyes and spilling down over his face. He was exhausted; sated and drowsily numb as he reached for her. “Thank you.”

It had been… years since he’d had an orgasm. Not his body. _Him._

He could still feel the Other Guy, pressing in at the edges of his psyche, latching on to the possessive urge to cling, to hold Nat too tightly for her to go. Not that he didn’t know better. He would never have wanted to own Natasha – knew full well that neither he nor anyone could – but, as she cradled his face in her hands, Bruce was more than content to be hers. He still felt the persistent tug of guilt, even now, that she’d settled for someone like him. “Natasha, you didn-”

“Bruce?”

“Yes?”

By way of an answer, she bent down, pressed past his lips with her tongue to devour him from the inside. Heedless of the mess, Bruce wrapped around her with shaking arms, feeling the answering tug of her fingers where they tangled in his hair.

*~*~*~*~*~

Natasha absently traced the two dimples on her abdomen. The hysterectomy scars were barely noticeable, a blessing of laparoscopy. Her trainers couldn’t have removed everything, of course. Agents still needed to maintain the proper hormonal balance to keep them looking appropriately, enticingly feminine; to be able to perform any duty required of them. Still, the Red Room was unparalleled at stripping every trace of intimacy from the sexual acts at which their recruits were expected to excel.

When they’d met, she had expected Bruce, as others before him, to be after exactly the payoff such skills could bring. She had never thought their first night together would end with them warmly curled around each other, discussing the philosophies of half-remembered faerie tales.

Bruce had wanted her in every sense, of course, but would not – in his mind, _could not_ – act on those desires. By contrast, Natasha had seen little to offer _beyond_ that; no one had ever desired more of her. Still, he’d asked to stay, and had; stayed with her – loved her without judgement or pity – without expectation.

The chance to use those hard-learned skills, not for any cause or leverage, not to gain advantage, but because she _wanted_ to? This morning – his relinquishment of control, his faith in her – was a gift, perhaps even more so for her than Bruce. The look in his eyes, the raw, unalloyed gratitude, had overwhelmed her. Natasha had put that thankful, wonder-struck look on Bruce’s face, and he had trusted enough to let her.

She settled her hand over his chest, fingers carding through the hair beneath them. Bruce shifted, arm moving around her waist, cheek pressing close against her forehead. Natasha ducked her head, readjusting so that she could rest her own cheek in the crook of his neck, pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat.

His embrace tightened as he yawned above her, pulling back to offer a bleary, sated smile. He lifted a hand to brush the hair back from her face, tucking her bangs behind her ear.

Natasha caught hold of his hand as it pulled away, turning to kiss over his pulse. “Good morning.”

“Mm?” Bruce shifted, rolling onto his back with a wince. “Is it still?”

Stretched out atop him, she pushed up onto her arms, again, tangling their legs as she looked down at him. “Eleven fifty-three. Did you want to get up this morning?”

“Let’s stay in bed until the afternoon?”

With Bruce rumpled and grinning sheepishly back up at her, Natasha was quite inclined to agree. “Ten more minutes, then.”

“Mmhmm… Extra time?” He arched up to meet her, words mumbled against her lips. “Even better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, now you get the rant. (Mini-itsy-bitsy-baby rant, I promise.) _*a-hem*_
> 
> The issue of Bruce and Nat and relationship/intimacy goings on in the MCU always left a bad taste in my mouth, especially after the first Avengers. It seemed as if her having no uterus - and, boy-howdy, was _that_ ever danced around - and Bruce not being able to engage in standard intercourse (again, assuming Norton-Hulk is canon because of the Ross crossover (the _Rossover?_ ) forced them not to be even remotely capable of anything beyond friendship, not matter how front and centre their mutual feelings seemed to keep getting framed (often in a comedic manner). The whole Nat as broken and incapable because no womb just rankled me, and then EG happened, and, upon seeing Bruce's reaction to how _that_ turned out, my brain finally just NOPED itself this squishy mess.
> 
> At 2:35 am.
> 
> Because that's how brains work, I guess? (Or don't work? I honestly don't know anything except that this happened, and that I hope you like it.)
> 
> I realize that the whole point of Banner going into the woods at the end of The Incredible Hulk (Norton), and then being found again for Avengers (Ruffalo) was that he learned to control his Hulk-iness by always being angry, but... I also remember the _Hulk **NEVER** smash_ jokes that came after that Norton movie. And then I thought too hard about it.
> 
> And then, _yadda yadda_ , EG happened and brain went NOPE.
> 
> So, I hope enjoyed this dose of concentrated, NOPE-induced happy-intimate-squishiness.


End file.
